Naomi Bulger: messages in bottles

_I finished work this week, so I celebrated by schlepping around in my tracksuit with no make-up and unwashed hair, reading books with my feet up on the couch, cleaning the house, doing a bunch of yoga stretches, setting up the baby's nook, and packing the baby's and my suitcase for hospital.

This was good timing because Baby B also reached full term this week, meaning that even though the due date is still a couple of weeks away, she could choose to arrive at any time and not be premature.

It is also rather nice because I can now use some of the 20 percent use of my hands the physiotherapist tells me carpal tunnel has left me to write blog posts and work on my novel, instead of writing for my clients.

However if I’m honest, I’m still probably pushing things a bit. I’m wearing great big splints on both hands (Mr B says I have “cyborg arms”), and I’ve lost most of the feeling in my right hand as I type this. The pain woke me up again last night despite the splints, the massages, the ice packs and the regular visits to the physio.

Another reason I’m kept awake of late is that Baby B is pressing on a nerve in my pelvis, which creates a sensation not unlike a searing hot frying pan resting on my thigh. There are moments when this sudden burning has brought me to my knees, almost vomiting from the pain.

Yet, I suspect that if this is the sum total of my pregnancy suffering, I have fared very well indeed.

And then there are the other sensations.

Like when, mid numbness or searing pain or both, Baby B rolls over and elbows me in the ribs. Or kicks me hard in the side. Or I feel my entire uterus constrict in those strange ‘practice contractions’ they call Braxton Hicks.

And I think, WOAH, there is an actual HUMAN CHILD growing INSIDE me. And she is ALIVE.

And I am overcome with wonder.

From the start, my body knew how to nurture this child into life. Baby B is big and strong because my body took care of her. It knew what to do although I had no idea.

And now my body is preparing to send my child into the world and straight into my cyborg arms. I cannot wait.

Baby B's kicks are a reminder that I am playing my own part in the miracle of eternal life.

So it is with these lofty thoughts for company that my little neurological ailments come to mean almost nothing at all. “It’s only pain,” I tell myself, which is all it is. Just signals from my brain.

If I were a genius I could probably even turn those off, too. Or change them into pleasure signals, or something.

I have been listening to Of Monsters and Men's My Head is an Animal album all week. It makes me so happy. And I just love this track, "Little Talks." When I hear it, I feel like somebody has handed me a shining gift and, when I open it, the gift is freedom. Maybe that's what I'm craving.

It seems like the closer my beautiful Baby B is to arriving, and the more exhausted my body feels from carrying and nurturing her, the busier I get.

I am swamped with work. Literally swamped, with towers of notes and briefings spilling over my desk and into the lounge room and onto the sweet little rocking chair that Mr B bought for me to nurse baby, not laptop.

We've had weeks upon weeks of house guests and dinner guests and travel plans and outings and shopping trips to try to prepare for baby's birth. So much housework! How does our home get so messy and so dirty so quickly?

I'm trying to write my next book, get started on an exciting new creative, collaborative project that will launch next year, and keep up with my blog.

This is all fun and I feel deeply loved by my friends and family, but I am also in somewhat of a spin. I'm prone to sudden bouts of dizziness and moments of "I must lie down, NOW," which do not work well with deadlines.

And I am not sleeping. What with the kicks (not that I'm complaining about those, oh how I love those kicks), the cramps (I WILL complain about the cramps), the carpal tunnel syndrome I've had in my hands and wrists since the start of my pregnancy, the back spasms when I roll the wrong way, and the stuffy nose, very little sleep goes on during those long night hours.

I wish I knew how other people did it. I don't see other pregnant women looking as done-in as I feel. They have that glow everyone talks about.

And of course I'm nervous. I know that this is just the beginning of sleepless nights and incessant demands on my time. That I am about to enter a whole new realm of indentured service to a tiny, beloved dictator. We don't have the financial luxury of me being able to be the stay-at-home mum I long to be, so I will need to juggle the dictator with deadlines, too.

But when all is said and done, I'm doing ok. I will figure it all out, somehow. From what I hear I've had a very easy road in this pregnancy, and I truly am grateful. Just tired.

Oh, and another thing that is cheering me this week, alongside "Little Talks," is my memory of France last year: of being there with my friends, of exploring Paris and basking in the heat of the south, and of little Baby B beginning to grow inside me, although I didn't know about that yet.

So in my guest post on English Muse today, I'm bringing you a visual treat from two great cities: Paris and New York. Come travel with me, won't you?

It's all becoming very real. Now I can say "next month" when anyone asks me when the baby is due, and that is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.

On the weekend we managed to set up a little 'nursery nook' for the baby. In a two-bedroom house with two adults, a part-time teenager (that is, she lives here part time, the teenager bit is full time), a home office and soon a baby, there will be no official 'baby's room' or nursery.

But we did manage to repurpose a little alcove by the back door and facing onto the lounge room, next to my office, into Baby B's little day area.

Thus with a quick trip to Ikea and an evening of fussing, heaving and swearing over bizarre instructions, we are almost ready for baby to arrive.

_ It occurs to me that I never did make an official gender announcement about our little bundle-to-be on this blog. Can you guess now?

_Part of the reason we managed to get this done so quickly was that I have been on what you might call an unintentional Internet hiatus.

Last Thursday I realised just how far behind I was on my deadlines. I shut down Firefox and my email software for a few hours so I could get to it without any distractions. That worked a treat. But it wasn’t until mid-way through today that it dawned on me that no emails for almost five days was pretty unpopular, even for me. I had forgotten to turn everything back on. 

If I haven’t answered your emails or tweets, or commented on your blog lately, I’m not ignoring you and I'm sorry. I promise to be in touch soon.

I don't have a regular 'favourite things Friday' post for you today. Nor did I come even close to getting through the mountain of work on my desk.

Something happened this morning, and I don't know how to explain it except to say that I guess my body released a massive hit of hormones around about breakfast time, because all of a sudden I started nesting in the biggest possible way.

I mean, I made to-do lists of things I needed to finish before baby arrived (everything from finishing off commissioned work to cooking and freezing meals). I emailed my friends in Sydney to tell them I'd be up for one last pre-baby visit, next weekend.

I made shopping lists of everything I needed to buy before baby arrived, from car-carriers and bassinettes to socks and onesies. 

I called my mum: "Will I need this one or that one? How long before baby gets too big for that?"

Then I hit the Internet. First Mothercare, then Babies R Us, and finally Etsy where I made the sweet little vintage and handmade 'wish list' collection below. It was a veritable nesting bonanza.

I promise to do my best to return this blog to normal next week. And in the meantime, have a wonderful weekend!

I came across this wonderful letterpress Illustrated A to Z of Melbourne today, by Benjamin Puckering, and couldn't resist buying it for the baby.

As Baby B grows up, so many of these items will become familiar symbols of home to our little one. Like, "T is for tram" and "V is for Victoria State Library" and "F is for Flinders Street Station." Isn't it adorable?

(I took the photo on the right on Instagram a couple of weeks back. When I saw Benjamin's design I had a "Woah!" moment. It's even the same number.)

_Dear baby,

Last night you battered me from the inside with your sweet kicks and wiggles while I sat on the couch and tried to read my new book. Boy do you love playtime, already.

Your father rested his Sunday-stubble cheek against my belly and spoke, just to you. "Hello baby," he said. "It's your dad. I love you."

You stopped kicking. Maybe you were listening?

Your father rubbed my belly, right where you had last kicked. It's the closest he can come to cuddling you, for now. There'll be plenty of real cuddles to come, we can both promise you.

Then he cupped his hands around his mouth and spoke again into my belly. "Baby, this is your father," he said in a funny, deep voice. "If you love me, give me a sign."

Nothing. You were resolutely still. More than you'd been all day, in fact.

You cheeky little monkey. We laughed. Oh baby, you're not even born yet and you're making us laugh. I can't wait to meet you!

Love,
your mum